ADAM WAS RIGHT. OVER THE course of the next two weeks, we had gone out on a few additional dates, but most of his time was preoccupied with Ryan and Lucas. I was fine with that, for the most part. It allowed me time to examine our…relationship, although that word was too strong. If I allowed my mind to wander, it inevitably wandered back to Adam. I was getting attached to him, and it scared me. I had vowed a long time ago that I wouldn’t get attached to anyone. Attachment only led to pain, both physical and emotional, and I doubted that I was strong enough anymore to deal with it.
And yet, despite myself, I couldn’t help but to think about him. The way his kind, brown eyes would simply stare at me over a burger, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he would swallow his drink, the flex of his biceps, the way my heart would race when I would see his name on my phone from either a call or a text. The way the air seemed to dance between us when we were together. It was becoming increasingly more difficult for me to disregard what I was feeling for him, and it scared the hell out of me.
A gnawing ache had begun to develop in my gut, equal parts joy and happiness mixed with fear and sadness. I cared for him, sure, but I also knew that this was temporary. It was impossible for me to believe that he would stick around if he found out what I had done. The thought of that depressed me. To make a connection with another person only to have it disappear was a gut-wrenching prospect to me. But I couldn’t stop myself. Adam was like a drug to me, and every text message, every phone call, and every date made me more and more addicted to him.
How could the lessons I had learned be so easily forgotten? Never get close to anyone. Never allow anyone close to you. The moment you need someone to be there for you is the moment you find yourself alone. I knew all of that, and yet it didn’t stop me from hoping.
Hope is a dangerous thing. It can string you along and make you believe that your innermost desires are, in fact, reality. It can blind you to what is truly going on around you, to the point that you believe. I had discarded hope a long time ago, and now I found myself back in its grasp.
My relationship with Greg changed significantly. He was no longer the stranger I worked with, though I wouldn’t go so far as saying we were friends either. We would…talk, which seemed unusual for the both of us. I found that I enjoyed working with him, and we worked well as a team. Much more so than Trish and me. She was flighty whereas he was serious. The dynamic perplexed me. He seemed almost “big brotherly,” and I couldn’t help but feel as if I was being substituted for his younger brother. I couldn’t figure out why. Truth be told, I took no issue with it, even if it was something I had never experienced before. I actually rather enjoyed it.
However, I also knew that the burgeoning friendship I was developing with Greg was also temporary. Like Adam, he would have no desire to continue talking to me if he ever found out about my past. And that would make things even more awkward since we worked together. I hoped that day was a long way off.
Business had a tendency to slow down at the shop in September, at least during the day. Kids went back to school, and foot traffic through the door would all but dry up. Wednesdays and Fridays continued to be our busiest day with new product and gaming, but the rest of the week would slow to a crawl.
The last Wednesday of September was a particularly grueling day. Half of the product that typically came in Tuesday evenings for us to sell on Wednesday shipped late. As a result, some came in on Tuesday, some the following day. That caused an increase in customers, most coming in twice.
I was exhausted by the time I got home.
No sooner had I flopped down on the couch than my phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew it was Adam without needing to look, and I felt a small smile creep across my face despite the trepidation I felt earlier.
-You home?
I typed back, -Just
-Good.
Then there was a knock at my door.
It took me a moment to fully understand what I had heard. I rarely had visitors, and especially at that hour.
Going to the door, I looked through the peephole, and saw Adam’s smiling face, slightly distorted. He held two pizza boxes in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.
Fear crept through my veins. I glanced around my studio. He had never been inside my studio. No one had. It was my private sanctuary. I had a split second to decide if I wanted to let him in. What would he think of me once he saw how I lived? Would he run out the door never looking back?
I closed my eyes and willed my anxiety to retreat. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I turned the knob and opened the door. Adam stood on the other side, wearing the widest grin I had ever seen on him.
I took a moment to drink the scene in, and my heart did a little flutter. Despite the darkness of night, his smile seemed radiant, and it was that smile that chased away my reluctance.
“Can I come in?” he asked, giving a slight lift to his arms, indicating his packages.
Breaking from my thoughts, I turned to the side, allowing him to come in. Closing the door, I turned to watch him as he took in my home, and that anxiety returned.
He took a moment to look around, because, really, that’s all he needed. My studio wasn’t large. As I watched him, my heart began hammering in my chest. That would be it, the moment Adam finally realized that he was better off without me and would bolt for the door. I steeled myself for his negative reaction.
It never came.
He turned to me and said, “Where can I put these?” His expression was open and cheerful, completely not what I was expecting.
I blinked, not fully comprehending the question or what was going on. My incredibly intelligent reply was, “Huh?”
He lifted his hands again, showing me the pizza boxes and bags. “These. Where do you want them?”
I scrubbed my hand over my face, needing the physical action to do a mental reset. Waving my free hand in the general direction of the kitchenette, I said, “Counter’s good.”
Why wasn’t he running? Couldn’t he see the disaster he had literally walked in to? Couldn’t he see the disaster that I was? But he wasn’t running. He was standing there holding pizza and grocery bags. In the middle of my studio.
I had to blink to be sure that I wasn’t hallucinating.
He set the pizza boxes on the counter and the bags on the floor. Squatting in front of my refrigerator to put the contents of the bag into it, he said, “I didn’t know what you liked on your pizza, so I got two pepperonis. Hope that’s okay. Beers and Coke too.”
This was becoming surreal. Adam was in my studio, unpacking groceries, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Maybe things like that happened regularly in his world, but they most certainly did not in mine.
Standing, he wadded up the plastic bags and tossed them into the trash. Finally, he turned and faced me for only the second time since entering my studio. Yes, I counted. Concern flashed across his face and his eyebrows came together. He was in front of me instantly and gently took my face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I couldn’t look at him. How could I explain to him what I was feeling when I didn’t know myself? How could I put words to my thoughts when I couldn’t untangle them? How could I tell him that I was glad he was actually there without sounding like a complete imbecile?
I looked at a point just over his shoulder and stared. “What are you doing here, Adam?”
Not the best question, and I was certain that were he anyone other than who he was, he would have been offended. But the way he held me told me he wasn’t. He didn’t move. Gently caressing my earlobes between his thumb and finger, he said, “Today was your long day, right?”
I glanced at him and nodded.
“I know you probably didn’t eat. So, I wanted to surprise you.”
Simple. Matter-of-fact. But for some reason, it still didn’t answer the question. “Please don’t misunderstand. But, why?”
He dropped his gaze, and, almost in a whisper, said, “Because I missed you.”
I swear, my heart stopped and restarted and my stomach filled with butterflies. “You did?”
I sounded pathetic even to my own ears. I could only imagine how I sounded to him.
“I did.”
Then he leaned in, tilting his head just slightly, and kissed me. Not hard or needy, but almost the gentlest of caresses, punctuating the words he had just spoken.
My entire world coalesced into the points at which our lips touched. My eyes closed involuntarily and my brain fogged. I lost myself within the kiss, allowing myself to float within it, not wanting it to end, fearing if it did, it would never happen again.
Adam deepened the kiss, the tip of his tongue gently brushing against my lips. His hands slid from my cheeks to my neck, fingers at the back and thumbs drawing lazy circles around my Adam’s apple. Free from conscious thought, my hands reached for his waist, hooking my thumbs through his belt loops and using them as an anchor, tethering me to him.
Time, space, up, down; none of those concepts held any meaning for me as Adam languidly traced the interior of my mouth. He was taking his time with me as if he were teaching me an entirely new language. And maybe he was.
Tentatively, I sought to meet his tongue with mine, and what ensued was a dance that I had never, in my entire life, experienced. Tongues, lips, and teeth clashed. Heat pooled in my gut, and I didn’t even attempt to stave off my arousal. I could feel his erection pressed against my hip, and I had no fear of ridicule if he felt mine.
His lips left mine, and I think I let out a whimper. Then they crashed into my collarbone, licking and nipping his way up. I tilted my head to give him better access, and he traced a path along the curve of my neck until he reached my ear. Taking my left earlobe between his teeth, he gave it a gentle nip, and I know I whimpered.
He chuckled, and I could feel the sound vibrate through his chest and into mine. “You like that?”
Cognitive thought was gone. The only way I could respond was with a sigh. I felt his lips curl into a smile against my ear before he nipped again, gently tugging my earlobe until I groaned.
My calves brushed against something hard, and through my fog, I realized Adam had backed us into the couch, I hadn’t even realized we had been moving, such were my mental faculties.
With a gentle push from Adam, I fell into the couch, seated on the middle cushion. He came down on top of me, a leg on either side, kneeling over my lap.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice thick with desire and need.
All I could manage was a nod. I was mesmerized by his lips, moist, puffy, and thick. I wanted to taste them again. So, I did, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him to me, I slanted my mouth to fit over his. We melded together perfectly, like two pieces of the same puzzle. Threading my fingers through his hair, I held him in place, taking every kiss he gave, and locking it away in my memory.
Placing his hands on the back of the couch on either side of my head, he pulled away and stared down at me. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
I felt my neck heat up and the blush rise into my cheeks. I wanted to believe him, but I had no idea how. Nothing in my life had prepared me for that, and I found my social skills severely wanting.
“I want you,” he whispered. That simple declaration exhilarated and terrified me. I couldn’t look at him for fear that he would see the fear in my eyes, so I turned away. He caught on, and placed a finger under my chin, gently tilting my head until he was looking directly into my soul.
“Nothing happens that you don’t want to happen. If you’re not comfortable, then we stop. I promise.”
I searched his eyes and saw naked, unbridled truth in them.
All I could do was nod.
He leaned in to me and brushed his lips against mine, almost tentative, testing my resolve. I met him kiss for kiss, feeling the heat in my gut expand and take me over. My arms encircled his neck, pulling him into me, locking him in place, and he gave a soft hum of pleasure.
He pulled away, but only slightly, staring into my eyes; nose to nose. “I know I sound like a broken record, but, are you okay?”
My chest heaved at his concern. Never had anyone shown me that level of interest, and it was a heady experience. I could easily become accustomed to it, even though a small voice in the back of my head warned against it.
“Adam,” I whispered. “I’ve never…” Embarrassment took over and I tried to pull away.
He held me in place, still nose to nose. “I know.”
Those little words, and the reverence he used when he spoke, said volumes.
Trust bloomed in me in a way that it never had before. Trust, and something else, something deeper and more meaningful.
Leaning back slightly, he balanced himself and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. I stared at him, mesmerized by the combination of his beauty and masculinity. He took his time, allowing me to memorize every detail of the act. First the top button, then the second, and so on until his shirt hung open.
My hands shook as I placed them on his chest. I had no idea what to expect when touching someone other than myself. A giddy sense of joy raced through me at the simple act of touching another man, of touching him. Heat radiated and coursed up my arm filling me with peace. He leaned back slightly to give me better access. Starting at his collarbone, my fingers traced the muscle definition. His pecs were amazing works of art, at least to me. Not overly muscular, they still held firm definition. My own frame was slight and held almost no definition, at least to my standards. So, to me, his definition was stunning. Tiny hard nipples sat on each one, and I resisted the urge to pinch them. I had seen enough videos to know that some people enjoyed that, but I didn’t know if he was one of them. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Tiny pings of electricity danced through my fingertips at each touch. I was amazed at the contradictions between the hardness of his muscles and the softness of his skin.
My hands soon made their way down his rib cage, skimming over each rib, and landed at his waist. With a simple shrug of his shoulders, his shirt fell and fluttered to the floor in a heap.
The tattoo sleeve on his left arm became clearly visible, and I sucked in a breath. Intricately detailed with names and faces interwoven with beautiful scenery, it ran from shoulder to wrist.
Gently, he took my hands in his and placed them on the snap of his jeans, at once giving me a hint as to what he wanted as well as permission to do it. My hands still shook. It took a couple of tries before I could work the snap. The zipper was much easier.
He stood, allowing the jeans to collect at his ankles. He toed off his shoes, then lifted his right leg out of the jeans and used his foot to stand on them, holding them in place, as he pulled his left leg free. His white skin was a contrast to the black of his boxer briefs, and I developed an underwear fetish instantly. He looked amazing, standing in my studio clad in nothing but socks, those briefs and his toothy grin. My eyes raked over him, drinking him in, searing the image into my memory.
He skimmed his socks off, then with his eyes never leaving mine, he hooked his thumbs into his boxer briefs. Bending at the waist, he slowly slid them down.
First his hips.
Then his thighs.
Then his calves.
He stood before me naked, impressive cock pointing straight out. My body vibrated with the need to touch him, to feel a cock other than my own. To feel him. My right hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it slowly rose and reached for him. Embarrassingly, I could see it shake as it moved, but I couldn’t stop myself. Adam seemed to take notice as well, and met me halfway, gently taking my hand and guiding it toward its intended target.
My finger touched the flesh of another man’s cock for the first time in my life. I marveled at the contradictions between softness and strength. I traced the length of him, starting at the crown, dipping my finger onto his slit where a small amount of moisture had collected. Wetting my finger tip, I continued my journey down his length, tracing up the flare of his cock, down into the valley, and over the rise of the vein that ran its length. Adam simply watched, seemingly enthralled.
Gently, I took hold, wrapping my hand around his shaft and giving him a tentative stroke. Adam sucked in a breath. The angle was different than what I was accustomed to, but I quickly overcame it. Adam allowed me to play, as if I was a child with a new toy, until he gently grabbed my wrist. “Stop. Too close.”
I retracted my hand and marveled at what I had just done. Or, almost done, as the case may be.
Slowly, he sank to his knees between my legs. Instinctively, I spread them wider to allow him admittance. He reached out for the snap of my own jeans, and I froze. What if he wanted to take off my shirt? He would surely see the scars. But he made no move toward it, his clear destination was my pants.
He deftly undid my snap and slid my zipper down. He gave a slight tap to my hip and I lifted my butt to his unspoken command. He slid my jeans and underwear off at one time, leaving me naked from the waist down. My erection bobbed for a moment until coming to rest against my stomach, clear liquid pooling near my navel.
He grinned wickedly and leaned forward, snaking out his tongue, and gently licking at my scrotum. I gasped and almost lost it right then. I thrashed my head against the cushions of the couch in time to his ministrations to my balls. I heard him give an amused chuckle at my surprise as he continued to lick and taste my balls.
Soon, he was using the tip of his tongue to trace the length of my erection, slowly sliding base to tip. He licked around the glans, lapping at the pool of pre-cum that had collected on my stomach. Once finished, he gave a playful smack to his lips and said, “Delicious.”
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever considered something like that could happen. Yet there I was, sprawled on my couch, without pants, with a gorgeous man between my legs extolling the virtues of my pre-cum. Surreal didn’t even come close.
Grinning once again, he bent down and took the head of my cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and flicking it into my slit. Once satisfied he had collected all of my offering, he lowered himself down my length. That…THAT was what all the boys in school would talk about, the extreme pleasure to be had when receiving a blowjob. Having never had one, I had absolutely no idea how to conceptualize it. But now…now I never wanted it to end.
He took me to the back of his throat and held me there, swirling his tongue around my base, then my shaft. He seemed to purr as he started bobbing his head, he let his tongue travel over the head of my dick. I struggled not to shoot right then. The need to come warred with the need not to, to extend the pleasure.
After several minutes, he stopped and released me with a lurid pop. He looked up at me, his eyes dilated and heated. “How was that?”
I couldn’t find the words to properly express to him what I felt, so I did what I thought to be the next best thing. I reached out for him, and he came willingly, straddling my body with his, face to face, chest to chest, dick to dick. Our dicks slid against each other and I pulled his face to mine.
“Amazing,” I whispered, then crashed my lips to his, invading his mouth with my tongue. I hoped I was doing to him what he had done to me earlier. I tried to replicate the movements he had used on me. I assumed I was doing an at least admirable job when I heard him moan.
Adam snaked his right arm between our two bodies and took hold of our erections in one tight grip, and began slowly stroking. One of us whimpered, I wasn’t sure if it was him or me. Pleasure zinged through me, centering itself in my abdomen, and creating the type of pressure I had never felt before.
“Adam,” I moaned.
Adam caressed my cheek with his free hand and whispered, “I’ve got you.”
I threw my arms around his neck, pleasure and pressure building.
“Let go.”
His lips rejoined mine, and I sank into his blistering kiss. I felt my balls draw up tight to my body and I was shooting, blasting between us in stark white streams, once, twice, over and over, coating my shirt and his hand. Adam joined me with a grunt, coating my shirt and his hand with his release.
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine. Seconds turned to minutes, and we did not move.
I feared breaking the spell. I feared his discovery of what a colossal mistake he had made in coming here. I feared that he got what he had come for and would race for the door.
Finally, slowly, he rolled off me and seated himself next to me, so close that the skin of our legs and hips were touching. He raised his right hand and glanced from it to me. Our comingled release was making a slow journey down his hand. Without pulling his eyes from mine, he raised his hand to his mouth and began licking it clean. Once done, he leaned into me, and brought is lips to mine. I parted easily for him, allowing his tongue in. His hands came up and cupped my face, gently holding me while we kissed. I tasted myself and him for the very first time. I found the flavor intoxicating, and I couldn’t wait to return the favor.
He leaned away from me again, and raised his hand, splaying his fingers and offering a silent invitation. I raised my right hand, and he took hold, interlacing our fingers, and setting the joined hands into his lap. His head lolled back onto the couch cushions.
He smiled. “That was amazing.”
I had no words, so I stared at him. I hoped my eyes said to him what I couldn’t verbalize. I wanted him to know that I was at the pinnacle of happiness and it scared the hell out of me. I wanted him to know that I appreciated the value he thought he saw in me. I wanted him not to leave me.
I think he understood. The passion I had seen earlier in his eyes was replaced with something akin to compassion and understanding. I wanted to cry when I saw it, but I didn’t.
He raised our joined hands to his lips, and kissed the back of my hand. “I’ve got you.”
And he did. More than he knew.